


two blades

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Series: beautiful villains [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Slavery, Spider!Maul, canon-compliant character death, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His new legs are powerful. With them he digs hundred of graves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two blades

Everything about him is twofold.

Black and red. Hatred and rage. Power and torture. Nightbrother and Sith.

Two blades from a single hilt: one for his enemy, one for himself.

They say that when setting out on a journey of revenge, you should dig two graves: your enemy’s and your own. If that is true, it will be every fulfillment he could wish for - to douse his enemy’s hateful light, and to also douse the fire in his own heart, the consuming agony that burns at his flesh day after day, every waking moment.

His own existence eats away at him. 

His whole life he has spent in slavery. To the Nightsisters, to Sidious. To the Dark Side. To his own rage.

Surely by now he has paid his own price. Surely he has bought back the rights to himself, in his burning and burning, in the spilling of blood. Surely he can be allowed now to let the fire go out, to fall into ash; surely the grave will welcome him home.

One blade for his enemy, one for himself.

 

* * *

 

When they bring him back, he is more than twofold. He is dozenfold, hundredfold. He has the many wicked legs of a spider and his mind is a web, strands criss-crossing in a thousand directions, fractured, fractured, and still he burns. Dozenfold. Hundredfold.

Black and red and white as bone and the pale pink of innards. Hatred and rage and agony and hunger. Power and torture and bloodthirst and pain. Nightbrother. Sith. Abomination. Monster.

His new legs are powerful. With them he digs hundred of graves. He digs and he digs and he digs, and he lays down body after body, but none of them are his own.

One for your enemy. One for yourself. One for your enemy. One for yourself. One always full. The other always empty. His own existence eats away at him. One for yourself. One for yourself. One for yourself -

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at i-am-therefore-i-fight.tumblr.com/post/148552656753.


End file.
